


with nothing but your t-shirt on by crybaby (bottom louis)

by rainbowshano



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshano/pseuds/rainbowshano
Summary: bottom louis version





	with nothing but your t-shirt on by crybaby (bottom louis)

The first time Harry talks to Louis Tomlinson, he’s so focused on replying to Liam’s message about the fact that he wasn’t the one who finished the emergency condoms, that he gets a fright when someone coughs to get his attention and he looks up with wide eyes, before he gawps.

Harry knows that I’ve seen you fuck yourself with a vibrator should not be the first thing that comes to mind when he first meets Louis Tomlinson.

And it’s probably that reason that Louis Tomlinson probably thinks he’s a bit off in his head, because instead of answering him with a simple yes when he comes up to Harry and asks: ‘Is this Intro to Psychology?’, Harry frowns at him, before his eyes widen and he stares.

Harry’s fingers rest against the keys of his mobile as he tries to compose himself, but.

The boy standing in front of him, in a baggy long-sleeve with a satchel resting against his hip and tired eyes and shower soft hair is undoubtedly the very same boy who Harry had watched come all over himself while wearing nothing but a lace bra not two days before.

Harry’s mind struggles to wrap around the fact that cumwhorelouis is standing in front of him, because there’s no way it isn’t him. Maybe, it could have been some other startlingly pretty boy, if it weren’t for his voice. Because Harry knows that voice, has heard that voice in his dreams, has played it through his mind when he comes.

Louis laughs nervously, and Harry feels his palms sweat. ‘You alright?’ he asks, the same gravelly voice. Harry has imagined asking Louis the same thing after fucking him into headspace and caring for him until he’s safely out far too many times.

Harry nods lamely before he manages to gather control of himself, slipping his phone into his pocket, leaving Liam’s message unanswered as he opens his mouth to speak.

‘Yeah, yeah it is.’ He croaks, and Louis gives him a grateful little smile before raising his hand to give him something between a salute and a wave, and god, Harry has seen him stuff all four of those elegant fingers inside himself before circling those of his other hand around his cock. Harry is not fine.

 

  
When Harry gets home, his laptop is still charging on his cluttered desk, open with dust across the keyboard and over the screen. He steels himself in the doorway, adamant about not doing what he would normally.

There’s only a handful of times where Harry has the flat to himself, but the most definite is Tuesdays and Thursdays when he gets back from class.

While Liam and Niall are both aware of his obsession and they’ve probably heard more than they would ever admit, Harry likes to watch his Louis videos when he’s alone so that he can play them loud and listen to his whimpers through his speakers, rather than when he watches his livestreams with earphones and waits until after they’ve finished before he lets himself wank off, because then he can focus on not making too much noise out of common courtesy.

It’s Thursday, so there’s still the new video from Wednesday evening sitting in his email, and normally Harry would settle down on his bed and watch the new ‘Hump Day Video’, but now he stands and stares at his laptop.

It’s weird now, because now he’s met him. Maybe not properly, but he’s still met him, was in his vicinity. He got to stare at the back of his head for the entire hour twenty minutes of his lecture, and he managed to not take in a shred of information because he was too torn between freaking out because of who was in front of him, and getting hard because of who was in front of him.

He crosses the room to his laptop in a moment of weakness, because in Louis’ livestream of Sunday, he’d said that the video would be a good one, and Harry had been waiting patiently.

So he sits down at his unsteady chair and chews on his fingernail. On one hand, if Harry stops subscribing and doesn’t pay next month, he can slowly forget all the things he’s seen and maybe try and speak to Louis again and then maybe build up to asking him out and getting to discover all the sounds he’s already heard the proper way. And on the other hand, Harry can watch the video and tell himself he’s going to stop, but never will and get stuck feeling awed and guilty every time he sees the boy, and therefore never approach him again and let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

In the end, Louis was right. The video is a good one. Harry comes hard with Louis’ kittenish moans streaming through his speakers as he rides a thick dildo, wearing nothing but little cat ears clipped into his hair.

 

  
Harry hopes that maybe it was a once off, that maybe he was lost and come Monday, he won’t be there anymore.

But of course that doesn’t happen, and when he arrives, Louis’ seated in the same place, and Harry sits down behind him once again, pricks his ears to listen to the sleepy lull of his voice as he tells the boy sitting next to him about how and why he swapped courses.

The thing is, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Louis was the slutty minx that he plays up when he’s cumwhorelouis, but from what Harry can tell, he’s a soft sweetheart. But Harry’s probably wrong, and it would probably be worse if Louis were as slutty as he portrayed.

He tells himself that he’s going to focus, that he’s not going to get distracted by the way Louis’ hair feathers softly on top of his head, or think about the Sunday livestream he had talked himself into watching, because Sundays are one of Louis’ fully-clothed days, so Harry had convinced himself it wasn’t as bad as watching a Friday one.

He doesn’t focus at all, in the end, because Louis makes to pull off his jumper and his t-shirt goes with it, giving Harry a full view to his bare back before Louis realises and pulls it down.

But of course by then it’s too late, and Harry’s mind is already running fast to create the visual image of Louis beneath him, fingers curled into the sheets as Harry strokes up the soft skin of his back, dragging his fingers down his spine before spreading him open and eating him out.

He leaves holding his textbooks in front of his crotch, embarrassingly hard in his baggy joggers.

 

  
Harry refuses to let it bother him. Refuses.

He gets home and Niall’s gone off and Liam’s left it tidy and he really doesn’t think he should be alone when he’s got something so momentous in his hands.

So he gets himself a beer from the fridge and flicks on the television, toeing off his shoes and resting his feet on the coffee table. But after he goes through the channels and concludes that everything on is shit, he’s left alone with Big Bang Theory reruns and his thoughts which slowly creep to what he’s seen on his laptop.

He doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal. If Louis Tomlinson wants to spend his evenings in front of a webcam for cougars and old men to watch, that’s his own business. Harry has never been one to obsess over sex lives that aren’t his own.

 

But Harry has this weird feeling in his tummy when he thinks about it, the one he used to get when he was little and ate so many gummy worms he thought they were wriggling around in his stomach.

And he doesn’t know what it is. It’s something mixed with unease mixed shock mixed with guilt mixed with lust, and it leaves him with his fingers tapping against his thigh until he breaks and reaches for his laptop on the coffee table, pushing Niall’s assignment off the lid and onto the carpet.

After what feels like a lifetime for his laptop to spark to his home-screen, he’s double, triple, quadruple clicking the little Chrome icon.

Once incognito, he skims down his bookmarks for the naughty page title, a sense of recognition in his stomach at the URL.

And it’s still the same page. There’s still a photograph of Louis at the top of the page, chin cupped in his hands as he lies on his stomach with his ankles crossed. He’s still only wearing little pink briefs in the photograph, perfectly photoshopped to match the bubblegum pink of the background.

And it’s still the same page and the button is flashing rhythmically, a sweet pink that flashes brighter and reads: I’m Live!

 

Oh god.

Harry drags down the volume bar at the corner of his screen before he clicks on the button. It loads a new screen, blank but for two buttons. The pink one reads: Watch Here! And the black one: Watch at Boyztube!

Harry clicks the second one, being taken to a page but having the loading video box be blocked with a pop-up that asks for his member ID. Harry types in the one he’d created at Boyztube, typing in his email and fake name for his password and clicking enter.

At last minute, he scrambles for one of Niall’s socks that’s dirty and scrunched up underneath the coffee table, pinching it between his fingers and laying it over his webcam. Just in case.

Louis’ already standing in front of the camera, naked but for thigh highs, as he drags his hands up his smooth thighs and over his tummy, before pinching at the rosy peaks of his nipples, his cock arched toward his soft belly.

 

  
The second time Harry talks to Louis Tomlinson, Harry has his head down to hide his shame and isn’t looking where he’s going.

He’d managed to go four days without watching anything of Louis’, but he cracked when he woke up Saturday morning with his cock made of wood after a vivid dream of Louis riding him in one of his dress shirts.

He feels disappointed and ashamed as he steps onto campus for his study date with Stella, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders as he trudges over crunched up, dead leaves, ear buds in.

He’s so lost in his mind that it comes as an utter fright when he turns the corner and walks right into somebody, right before his chest is burning with fire.

He jumps back and pulls an ear bud out as he looks down at his chest, a large splotch gone see-through over the larger part of his chest and stomach. His skin burns as he pinches at the fabric and pulls it from his skin, gritting his teeth.

He’s ready to shout at whoever just spilt whatever over him, but when he looks up, of course he sees Louis Tomlinson pulling his own earphones out, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

‘Shit,’ Louis rushes, voice high like when he’s about to come, ‘I’m so sorry!’

Had it been anyone else, Harry would have probably raised his voice a bit before storming off. Except it’s the boy who Harry been enamoured with ever since MFC announced their partnership with a new brothering channel and he saw Louis’ profile as the top result when he’d searched ‘twinks’.

‘It’s, uh,’ Harry starts, pinching at the wet fabric as he tries to ignore the sting of it, ‘It’s fine.’

Louis stuffs his earphones into his pocket before he runs his fingers through his hair. The tip of his nose is red and his cheeks a pretty pink, and Harry’s tummy twists because not for the first time, he thinks about holding Louis’ hand and kissing him sweetly, rather than fucking him against the wall or bent over a desk. He looks adorable in his yoga pants and his milky white sweater.

‘No it’s not, you’re soaked!’ Louis exclaims, before he drags his lower lip between his teeth. ‘Shit. Um, my room is in Abbotts, so if you come with me I can give you another shirt?’

Harry’s already running late and Stella’s going to be pissed, but he finds himself nodding.

Louis nods along and bends down to pick up his now empty take-away cup so he can chuck it in the bin.

 

  
Louis has a single, and Harry’s sure he must have requested that. He can’t imagine trying to be a successful camboy while living with a roommate.

That also means his room is tiny, a single pushed up against the wall and his desk opposite. It’s about half the size of Harry’s room. Louis leaves him in the doorway before he’s crossing to his cupboard, pulling it open and digging through neat piles as Harry looks around his room.

It looks normal enough, but Harry spies his camera on his desk, beside his Mac, and he thinks he should not be so familiar with this room. He should not know the sheets because he’d seen Louis lying back against them as he’d fondled his cock through the sheer fabric of baby blue panties.

He wonders where Louis keeps his toys.

He’s got a good view out onto the courtyard, but Harry knows this, because it had been just under a week ago when Louis had posted a picture of himself sitting naked on the window sill with the courtyard in the background, fairy lights hanging down beside him.

Louis clears his throat softly, and Harry turns around, only to be presented with a soft looking white t-shirt.

‘The bathroom’s communal if you don’t want to change here,’ Louis offers, his voice small.

Harry shakes his head, desperate not to look back at his bed when he sees the plastic lid of the lube he’s seen Louis use in his videos peeking out from under his pillow.

‘Nah, s’fine.’ Harry tells him, and Louis turns away and back to his cupboard when Harry shrugs off his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head. His fingers are shaking, and he refuses to let his mind imagine a situation where he’s getting undressed to pull Louis down onto the single bed and kiss him until his lips are swollen, finger him open and fuck him slowly.

Louis looks away, but Harry’s almost certain he sees Louis look at him, right from the corner of his eye, before he pulls on his shirt.

It’s buttery soft against his skin, the neckline low. It smells boyish and clean, and Harry wants to burrow into Louis and keep him forever, if only to keep the smell that clings to his top.

Harry doesn’t know what’s scarier; the fact that he wants to fuck Louis until he’s crying and whimpering and coming all over himself, or that he wants to pet him and kiss him until he falls asleep in his arms afterward.

Louis bundles up Harry‘s damp shirt in his hands with the promise to wash it and find a way to return it to him, before Harry tells him that they take Psychology together and recognition dawns on Louis’ pretty features.

Harry hovers at his door, buttoning up the last two buttons on his jacket as Lous stutters over his last apologies, but Harry waves them off and wonders if it’s too forward to ask Louis out this early.

Louis pulls the door open for him, leaning in against the doorframe as Harry stuffs his hands into his pockets.

‘I’m really sorry, by the way.’ Louis blushes, his shy smile awfully genuine.

Harry shakes his head and looks down at his feet before he runs his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s really fine, no harm done.’

Louis shakes his head before he stretches out his hand to Harry.

‘I’m Louis, by the way,’ he introduces, and then Harry remembers that he shouldn’t know his name, and he realizes that this whole time, he could have been calling him Louis when it was just a stage name.

Harry shakes his hand firmly and frowns slightly when Louis doesn’t let go of his hand and giggles softly.

‘You know, that’s when you’re meant to introduce yourself?’ Louis teases gently, squeezing his palm.

Harry shakes his head and he feels his cheeks burn with fire almost instantly. ‘Right, yeah, sorry. M’Harry.’

‘Lovely to meet you, Harry.’

 

  
The third time Harry talks to Louis Tomlinson is Tuesday, when he’s already settled into his seat and is scrolling through his phone as he waits for his laptop to start up.

He looks up at the sound of a thud and sees Louis stop from where he’s approaching his seat, the row in front of Harry’s, to apologize and pick up a shaggy-haired boy’s bag that he’d knocked off the table. Harry watches the annoyance drain from the boy’s face as Louis gives him his smile of the sun before he’s carrying on and looking up, almost towards Harry.

Harry locks his phone and focuses on the way that Louis’ waddling slightly, hips swaying in his yoga pants. Harry had watched him set his glittery pink dildo down on his desk chair and sink down onto it the night before, bare but for a flimsy white t-shirt that looked near identical to the one he’d leant to Harry and that showed off the hard press of his nipples as he’d wriggled around and tried to avoid touching himself.

Louis smiles and sets what Harry recognizes as his top down beside his laptop, neatly folded. ‘I really am so sorry,’ he starts, and Harry tries to cut in, but Louis raises his hand to cut him off and shakes his head. ‘I think I managed to get the stain of it out, but if it bugs you I’ll get you another one?’

When Harry frowns, it’s a lot fonder than he’d care to admit. ‘It’s really fine, it was my fault anyway.’

Louis looks ready to protest before Doctor Carter walks in and effectively silences Louis into sitting down quickly in his seat. Harry stuffs his freshly washed top into his laptop bag and tries very hard to focus.

But he still ends up thinking about kissing the back of Louis’ neck as he takes him from behind, about tugging on Louis’ cock slowly until he’s shivering with his orgasm.

 

  
His shirt smells like Louis’ had, and Harry wears it when he watches his livestream that evening.

Louis’ just idly fingering himself, lying on his side and propped up on two pillows, reading the comments as his arm works behind himself, one leg up so that Harry can see his fingers moving before they dip inside him.

Harry tucks his nose into the neckline and breathes it in as Lous laughs at something he’s read, right before it’s cut off with a moan and his eyelashes flutter. Harry watches his cock twitch, precome dripping slowly from the head and down onto his bedding.

Harry can hear Liam outside his door, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he flicks up the volume so that it’s louder through his earphones and he pushes down the waistband of his jogging bottoms, so his hand can reach under his waistband and he can curl his fingers around himself and draw his cock out against his tummy.

Louis wraps his own hand around his cock and strokes lazily, and before Harry can think better, he types into the little chat box: no touching.

Louis’ eyes focus back onto the screen seconds later, and his eyes skim lazily as he thumbs at his tip, drawing his foreskin back and squeezing out another fat bead of precome as his arm flexes behind himself.

His eyes widen minutely before his hand falls away from his cock and he’s laughing softly, grainy through the feed.

‘What else then, DaddyStyles21?’ Louis purrs, fluttering his eyelashes at the camera, and Harry’s heart thumps.

Harry rests his fingers over his keyboard and thinks out a reply. Louis draws his fingers from himself and rests his chin on the back of his hand.

‘I’m waiting,’ he drawls, rolling onto his front and pushing his ample bum up.

Harry gulps as he types out: hump the bed.

Louis smiles when he reads it, biting his lip slowly before he rests his body down, face against the pillow as he shuffles closer to the wall so that the webcam picks up more of him. Harry watches as his hips start to shift in small rocking motions.

A soft moan comes from Louis as he humps against the mattress slowly, his fingers flexing as he arches his back before grinding his hips down.

Harry wants to be between his thighs, holding them open and lapping at him as he grinds against the sheets. He wants to be there after he comes, when he’s sleepy and trembling.

Louis’ arms tense, muscles bulging as his hips pick up pace and he’s grinding harder, faster. He gets steadily louder, slow moans turning louder and ending in weak whimpers as his hips snap and his muscles shift beneath his skin.

His head turns against the pillow so that his cheek rests against it and he’s looking into the camera as he rabbits against his duvet, his mouth open as high little sounds spill out.

Harry fists his cock in time with Louis’ messy hips, his tummy tightening as he watches Louis’ eyes squeeze shut and his mouth form a pretty O as he shudders throughout his body.

Harry comes when Louis’ hips stutter against the mattress. Harry inhales the scent of him from his shirt as Louis mewls in his ears.

 

  
‘You really don’t have the money to keep this obsession going, Haz,’ Liam sighs as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket.

Harry knows this. He knows that he doesn’t have enough money to throw it at pretty boys with high quality webcams, but he can’t not when it comes to Louis.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Harry managed to stick to just paying the subscriber fee, because that’s easy, but he can’t stop himself from donating because it makes Louis get that pretty smile. And then there’s also the fact that Louis had put a link to his wishlist on his blog, promising to send a photo with the item purchased when it costs over two pounds and a video when it costs over ten.

Liam sighs when he gives him train fare, and Harry hooks his arm around his neck and kisses the top of his head, promising he’ll make supper if Niall goes out.

 

  
The fourth time Harry speaks to Louis Tomlinson, it’s because Louis needs a pen. Harry doesn’t have one, so he shrugs and watches as Louis asks the person sitting in front of him.

 

  
The fifth time Harry speaks to Louis Tomlinson, he’s standing in line in a small coffee shop because the temperatures are dropping quickly and he’s freezing from his inner core, and out.

He still has twenty seven minutes until he has class, so he orders his vanilla chai in a ceramic mug and tacks on a biscuit at second thought, before he surveys the cosy room and looks for a place to sit.

He groans at the realisation that there’s nowhere left for him to sit, and that all the tables are occupied.

 

He spots the all-too-familiar back of someone’s head, and of course he has that sort of luck. Because of course Louis Tomlinson would be there when he needs somewhere to sit. Because the thing is, Harry’s discovered, that Louis is very friendly. The only problem is that whenever Harry sees him, all he can think about is his guilt over the fact that he’s seen him naked with toys inside himself and that he’s stared at a picture that Louis had posted nearly a year ago of him sucking off some anonymous guy far too many times and imagined it was him in the picture double the amount.

He takes a deep breath before he approaches the small table, and he clears his throat.

When Louis looks up, he’s got bags under his eyes and he blinks slowly. He’s got one foot resting on the edge of the chair, what looks to be an English textbook open on the table in front of him, beside a large mug of hot chocolate, barely touched.

‘Hi!’ he chirps, his voice edged between sleepy, happy, and pleasantly surprised.

‘Hey,’ Harry smiles back, his mouth quirking up. ‘Would you mind if I joined you? There’s no other space...’

Louis nods quickly, his leg falling off the chair as he sweeps all his belongings scattered over the table top toward himself, a pink highlighter clattering out his furry pencil case and onto the floor.

Harry picks it up for him before he sits down.

‘Y’alright?’ he asks as he leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his tea.

Louis smiles and reaches for his hot chocolate, gingerly taking a sip. It leaves him with a cute little moustache, and if Harry knew him better, he would lean over the table and wipe it off with his thumb. But as it is, he thinks Louis might be a bit put off by Harry being so forward.

‘I took a couple days off and now it’s coming back to haunt me,’ Louis sighs.

Harry’s not surprised. Louis had mentioned it on his blog, had even posted pictures, after he’d done a private session with a man who had ‘too much money’ and had asked if he could spank himself more than a few times.

It had looked rather uncomfortable, his bum coloured in reds and purples and blues in the pictures he’d posted, and Harry’s not surprised he’d taken a few days off to recover from it.

Harry gives him a sympathetic shrug, not willing to delve into asking why and putting Louis on the spot like that.

Louis sighs and has another sip before he closes his textbook, yellow highlighter keeping his place.

‘If I were to drop out right now, what do you think the chances of me becoming a singer would be?’ Louis sighs, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

Harry finds himself grinning softly, privately, over the rim of his mug. He can see it, Louis in his ridiculous stage costume, singing his heart out for thousands. He has the personality for it, all bubbly and buoyant.

He shakes his head at him. ‘Pretty slim, I’m afraid. You could always go the groupie route though, if you wanted.’ That’s another thing Harry can easily picture, Louis as the groupie everyone fucks when they’re stone. He grips the handle of his mug tighter at the thought.

Louis tilts his head, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully and trying to push down his smile.

‘I suppose so,’ he muses, before his eyes flick back to Harry and he takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

 

  
It would appear that after the fifth time that Harry speaks to Louis Tomlinson, Louis seems to assume that they’re friends.

Which is fine with Harry, completely, it just makes it a bit harder to look in the mirror because being friends with Louis is addictive but watching Louis is more so.

Harry tries very hard, though.

He spends the whole of Friday afternoon on the couch, his hands between his knees with his eyes on the television.

Niall gives him a strange look when he gets home, shoving his keys back into his pocket as he dumps his backpack down beside the door, before he toes off his shoes, leaves them where they are. He takes a bite from his sandwich, frowning before he dabs at the corners of his mouth with his thumb.

‘I swear I saw that kitten twink you’re obsessed with when I was at Pret,’ Niall greets, before taking another bite.

Harry shakes his head quickly and looks at the clock. Louis’ livestream should be starting soon.

‘Doubt it,’ he says easily, pretending to be focussed on an episode of Mythbusters.

Niall shrugs before he sets his sandwich on the worktop and shrugs off his coat, hanging it over the back of the armchair.

He looks back at Harry before sitting down next to him. He chews slowly before his eyes flick to the clock and he squints. ‘Speaking of, isn’t his show about to start or something?’

It is, should be. Louis’ probably greeting all his viewers and talking about his day. He’s probably still dressed, so there wouldn’t be much harm in Harry watching, really.

‘I don’t watch that anymore.’ Harry says slowly, trying to give Niall a smile.

Niall rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll leave for a bit if that’s what you want?’ he offers, ‘Can even take Liam out for a drink if you want to listen to it loud?’

Harry loves Niall, like a little brother or a limb, and he’s grateful for how understanding he is, but when he’s trying to wean himself off his obsession with a boy who fucks himself for money, his offer is all too tempting. It’s a losing battle. He nods pitifully.

Niall squeezes his shoulder and stands up again. ‘See, that was all you had to do. Me and Liam will be back in an hour or two,’ he tells him as he pulls his phone from his pocket and pulls his coat back on, toeing on his shoes and leaving the flat with a slam of the front door, dialling Liam’s number.

It takes Harry half a minute to get to his room, laptop loading as he gets his lube out, pushing his trackies down his thighs as he rests back against his pillows.

He clicks onto Louis’ site, his heart thumping at the sweet little smile of Louis’ photograph at the top of the page. He takes a moment to save the most recent picture he’s posted, of him kneeling on the floor in thigh highs, cock full against his belly, before he clicks on the flashing I’m Live!button.

He logs in before he’s at Louis’ screen, the feed taking a moment to load, before he’s treated with the sight of Louis sitting cross-legged in front of the camera, top off with a bubblegum pink skirt pinching at his waist.

He talks sweetly about his weekend plans, his lips quirked in a constant flirty smile as his fingers trail up and down his soft-looking thighs, edging closer and closer to the hem of his skirt but never quite getting there.

Harry knows what he wants, and he has to do a small mental summary, just like always, to make sure that he’s not going to desperately need ten pounds within the next week or so, before he clicks on the green donate button.

Louis pauses what he’s saying to squint at the screen, all before a radiant smile spreads over his face. ‘And thank you to DaddyStyles21 to getting us to my weekly mark,’

And just like that, Louis is peeling back the hem of his skirt so that his cock bobs out, hard and wet. He wraps his hand around himself, and Harry uncaps his lube as he does, wrapping his slick hand around himself and encouraging himself harder as he wanks himself in time with Louis.

Louis leans forward and his eyes scan the comment section and he laughs sweetly before he pulls the hem of his skirt back down, pulling it tight over his lap so that the line of his cock is obvious against the soft pink fabric.

‘Happy Birthday Rocking Jock, any requests?’ he purrs, pressing his palm against the head of his cock through the material as he leans in closer to the screen, eyes focussed as he reads. His grin is that of a minx.

‘I think I can do that for you.’ Louis says softly, before he’s giving a wide smile and leaning over, out the eye of the camera. When he comes back, he’s got lube and a thick, pink vibrator in his hands.

He sets them down beside his foot before he pushes his laptop back and gets up onto his knees, pressing into his duvet.

Harry’s transfixed as he drags his hands up his slender thighs and presses his hands against the hem, dragging it up higher and higher, before letting go. Louis groans in frustration, squeezing his fist around his base.

Louis wiggles around so that he’s facing away from the camera, so that Harry’s watching the backs of his thighs before Louis’ reaching to tilt the camera up so that he’s got a brilliant view of Louis’ bum, the camera near peeking up his skirt.

He bends over slowly until Harry’s cock twitches in his hold, eyes focussed onto where Louis shuffles until he’s comfortable and the hem of his skirt is resting just under his bum.

‘Can everyone see?’ comes Louis’ voice, muffled before his hands reach back and pinch at the edge of his skirt, slowly pushing it up before his hole’s on show, smooth and pink.

Harry bites his lip, wanting nothing more than to get Louis on his tongue, have him sit on his face as he licks him open.

Louis reaches around and his body shifts a bit before his arm’s drawing back and he’s got his vibrator between his fingers, slick with lube. He presses the thick tip of it against his hole before he presses slowly.

Harry’s almost awed with how he takes it, whimpering just loud enough for his webcam to pick up as he presses the fat toy inside himself, until only the flared base remains. Harry can see that his thighs are trembling from the effort of it before he presses his thumb against a button and a loud buzzing noise comes through.

Louis moans as he pinches at the base, drawing it out of himself almost completely before he shoves it back in, moaning when he presses it in fully.

Louis’ ruthless with himself, fucks himself hard and fast with the toy so that he whines and moans and whimpers, relentless. His arm is jerky as the toy vibrates against his spot.

Louis comes fast, but he leaves the toy on and stuffed inside himself while he tries to catch his breath, and that’s what gets Harry to come, listening to Louis’ sensitive little whimpers before he reaches back and draws it out slowly.

His hole is slick with it.

His cheeks are flushed and he looks so sweet when he clumsily moves around to face the camera again, skirt crumpled with a wet spot at the front.

Harry donates another two pounds to make Louis grin again before he’s closing the tab, right before the real feeling of guilt can kick in.

 

  
Louis messages him a Friday night, and it’s new, the fact that Harry has Louis’ number programmed into his phone, as well as a dumb picture of a strawberry which Louis had sent him the second Harry had given him his number.

And Harry’s been fine with it, has loved getting Louis’ whiny messages about how cold his single room is and grainy selfies when Louis can’t sleep, but the fact that Louis sends him a message asking if he’s up not even ten minutes after Harry had just watched him do a strip tease while wearing gauzy pink panties and a garter belt fills Harry with guilt and he switches off his phone and leaves it face down on his bedside table.

He only switches it on Saturday night before he goes out with Niall, and by then Louis has sent him two pouty selfies and eight messages.

It’s then that Harry decides to put a stop to his subscription to cumwhorelouis once and for all.

Which, of course, doesn’t last long, because he comes home frustrated that he couldn’t find anyone decent enough to pull and it feels like his only option is video number seventeen, the one with Louis in a silky nighty that just skims the top of his thighs as he pouts at the camera.

 

  
‘So, what are your plans for the weekend?’ Louis asks him, winding his earphones around his mobile phone before tucking it into his back pocket.

Harry kicks at the ground. He has work in half an hour.

‘Liam’s throwing a small party on Saturday, but other than that, nothing I guess. And yourself?’ Harry replies, looking to the side to watch Louis.

He leaves out the part that he’s probably going to try not to watch Louis, and that then he probably will. And he’ll probably watch ‘Hump Day Video’ number seven again, the one where Louis comes untouched, riding a huge dildo as he plays with his nipples. He cries somewhere near the end.

‘Nothing planned, really. I’ll probably watch the entire first two seasons on Friends and make some headway on my photography coursework, but nothing other than that,’

Harry nods, and if it were anyone else, he’d know they were hinting at doing something with him, but Louis makes him stupid.

He walks Louis to Abbotts Hall without really noticing, only realizing when Louis stops and steps onto the first of the stone steps.

‘Well,’ Louis says, raising his eyebrows. Harry raises his own back, pulling his jacket tighter. Louis laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘Bye Harry, enjoy your weekend.’

Harry sighs as Louis turns to climb up the steps, and the air curls out his lips in a cloud of cold weather. His eyes roam up his legs, wrapped tight in stretchy material. Harry wants them wrapped tight around his hips. Louis’ pulling open the main door when realization hits.

‘Hey Louis!’ he calls, and Louis turns back to look at him, lower lip between his teeth.

‘Yeah?’

‘You want to come on Saturday?’

Louis smiles and nods quickly. ‘I’d love to Harry.’

 

  
Harry feels like shit when he watches Louis choke on a dildo that night, per request of somebody who donates a lot.

 

  
Louis arrives just after eight, edging in through the open door wearing skin tight jeans and a black jumper, looking around as he bunches his fists up in the sleeves. Harry doesn’t understand how somebody so sweet looking, adorable, can spend his Friday nights sucking on chunks of rubber for money.

Harry tells himself it’s just his imagination that Louis’ face lights up when he spots him, that it’s probably the lights.

Niall had taken on the responsibility of alcohol, which had resulted in a disgusting rum, wine and something-Harry-can’t-quite-place mixture that has Harry feeling a bit tipsy after a single cup. Harry pours Louis a cup as he walks over, presenting it to him and getting a grin which makes his eyes crinkle prettily in the corners. Harry knows he should stop drinking before he tells Louis that he thinks he’s pretty when he wears white panties.

Louis drinks fast, and the bob of his throat is mesmerizing.

Liam’s nice, so Liam’s friends with everybody, and Louis seems to know a lot more people than Harry does. There’s a time when Louis drifts off somewhere in the pull of people and Harry ends up on the couch with a girl with dark roots, leaning into her.

Louis’ off with a boy who has sides of his head shaved and is nice to look at, and Louis’ pretty on his arm, so Harry plays interested in what the girl’s saying. She’s pretty, and he wouldn’t mind sleeping with her.

The couch dips beside him, and he ignores it until there’s a head resting on his shoulder and hair tickling his neck.

It gives him a fright, until he realizes it’s Louis. He’s had too much to drink, Harry can tell. His eyes are glassy and he’s smiling too wide and he wriggles around until he’s practically on top of Harry. It’s not unwelcome contact, just a bit unfamiliar, and Louis’ cuddly and warm as he throws his thigh over Harry, sprawled uncomfortably.

The girl with the dark roots and tongue piercing leaves when Louis starts telling him a string of jokes, trying to spread his legs wider. Harry’s watched him spread his legs wide countless times for the camera. He looks like he wants to be fucked, legs splayed and head tilted back as he laughs at his own joke.

Harry rests his hand on his thigh, idle, as Louis starts to babble nonsensically.

Harry’s only vaguely aware of Niall across the room, but he’s a lot more aware when Niall is at Liam’s side and pointing in his direction. He knows he’s in trouble when Liam weaves through the crowd and towards them, and he draws his hand off the warmth of Louis’ thigh before Liam stops in front of them.

Louis gives him a bright smile and tilts his hips up.

‘Who’s this?’ Liam asks, smiling in his way that gets people to like him. He looks good, unshaven and scruffy. Louis’ hyper-conscious of Harry’s legs shifting open wider.

‘Hi, I’m Louis,’ Louis slurs, sticking out his hand and leaning forward to shake hands with Liam.

Liam smiles, almost fondly, at the drunk boy before he takes a sip from his own cup. ‘You look rather familiar, doesn’t he Harry?’

Harry raises his eyebrows at Liam before he shakes his head. Louis draws his feet up onto the couch.

Liam tilts his head toward the kitchen and Harry sighs before pushing off the couch. Warm fingers circle his wrist and pull and Harry looks down at Louis, pouting up at him with Bambi eyes.

‘Where’re you going?’ he asks, voice blurred at the edges.

‘I’ll be right back.’ Harry tells him, and Louis nods and leans back into the couch.

Niall folds his arms over his chest and frowns at him. ‘That’s the guy right? The one you’re always watching?’

Harry nods and fights the urge to look back at Louis.

‘How long’s this been going on, then?’ Liam asks then, resting back against the sink.

‘It just kinda happened. I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, a month and a bit maybe; he’s in my psychology class. He’s really sweet.’

‘You’re not fucking him?’ Niall frowns, looking somewhere along the lines of shocked and affronted.

Harry shakes his head. ‘Haven’t even gotten ‘round to asking him out yet. I feel too guilty because I keep watching him.’

Niall nods slowly. Liam shrugs and bumps shoulders with Niall.

‘Well,’ Liam starts, frowning slightly, ‘as long as you know what you’re doing, I guess.’

Harry laughs. ‘I haven’t a clue. But I think I might ask him out tomorrow, when he’s sober,’ he says slowly.

Niall seems to think that’s enough. Once they’re satisfied, Harry’s shoved back in the general direction of the couch.

Louis’ asleep though, face soft and mouth open with soft snory sounds, his hands pressed flat to the back of the couch and his legs curled up to his chest.

Harry reaches to pet at his soft hair, ends up running his fingers through and pulling gently so that Harry almost purrs in his sleep. He giggles softly at the boy before he shakes his shoulder, trying to get him to wake up.

‘Louis?’ he murmurs softly, ‘Wake up. This couch will ruin your back,’

Louis sniffles before he blinks his eyes open. He smiles slowly, very pretty, as he pulls on Harry’s wrist. Harry follows willingly, curious as to what Louis wants, before Louis tugs him down onto the couch and leans into the warmth of him.

Harry’s startled, confused laughter ready to breathe out his throat, before Louis’ lips are against his.

It’s soft and quick. Louis’ kiss is warm and sweet before he falls asleep again, clinging onto Harry.

Harry’s heart thumps as Louis wraps his arms around his neck and starts to snore softly.


End file.
